


Monday's Child Is Fair of Face

by sacrosanct



Series: The Tradition of Fortune Telling [1]
Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-24
Updated: 2012-01-24
Packaged: 2017-10-30 01:22:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/326194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sacrosanct/pseuds/sacrosanct
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens between Chris and Zach during the first week leading up to Star Trek 2's principle photography? Over a succession of seven days, their lives are entwined back together. How does it work? How will it work? Does that chemistry they had during the first film still exist with such sparkling resonance this time around?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Monday's Child Is Fair of Face

**Author's Note:**

> Monday's child is fair of face  
> Tuesday's child is full of grace,  
> Wednesday's child is full of woe,  
> Thursday's child has far to go,  
> Friday's child is loving and giving,  
> Saturday's child works hard for a living,  
> But the child who is born on the Sabbath Day  
> Is bonny and blithe and good and gay.

Even though he presently found himself in the sunny throes of Los Angeles, winter's harsh beauty had already trampled through like one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse. After having lived in the chilly upper northeast for so long, Zachary half expected to blink and find himself transported to a snowy urban wasteland. This was it, wasn't it? The last real turn of winter before the supposed world's end? That's what he'd call the four horsemen. First Winter, then Spring. Summer. Autumn would ride in with a fiery blaze of orange and yellow, only to leave a desolate, barren landscape for the final retribution. _It's too early for this. Too deep for the beginning of the day at the beginning of the week. Self – positivity; remember it. What a difference a year makes,_ he thought to himself as he drove a decidedly familiar route through town. Los Angeles had changed from … what point would he reference? _How much our own presences shift during the course of twelve months. Two years. Three. Four. How long has it been?_ Businesses and buildings were familiar. Some new. Some repainted. A few remodeled. The people seemed different. Meaner. Prone to gossiping more. _What's your name? What do you do? Who are you fucking?_ He couldn't disappear here at all. Not like he could in New York. Or maybe this was his own awareness of his own self and his place in _this_ city. This was the city where he had to always be on, always be presentable, always be perfect. _Too much. Think lightly. Food – mmm, yes,_ he thought as he felt the hunger rumbling through his stomach.

Though what he really needed was a cigarette. And he was trying to quit. Again.

J.J. and his crew arranged for a preliminary script meeting downtown in some irrelevant office building. A smart move on J.J.'s behalf. He wasn't in the mood to be caught and tracked down, hunted by the paparazzi and whomever else as if he were some prized, elusive prey. He slipped into the building and took the stairs to the third floor. The conference room was empty. A table near the wall displayed a massive arrangement of sandwiches, coffee, snacks, whatever else. Massive. J.J. really did make sure to take care of his people. Magnanimous. Gratuitous. Zachary stood there in front of the table, looking at everything until he couldn't take it anymore. Nobody had entered the room in what felt like a small eternity. _Hmm._

He took his phone out of his pocket and checked a few messages and emails in an effort to distract him from the food. _Oh, fuck it._ Zachary reached for one of the sandwiches and chomped enormously at it as he opened up an unforgiving app on his phone. Just as he was punching in “ _conferring an inferential incommunicado situation in a conference room. Perhaps I am to be beamed aboard –_ ”, Zachary spun on his heel, one cheek overtly stuffed with sandwich, to see Chris standing behind him. 

He blinked. That was all he could do. Words and thoughts escaped him.

“I _can't_ scare you. At all. _At. All._ I had a feeling you'd be here first, and confirmed it with your car in the parking lot, so I tiptoed the _whole_ way up the stairs and down the hallway to see if you'd scream or do something instead of looking like a chipmunk who got caught stealing from a vault of nuts...”

“Christopher – regardless of your intentions, you walk heavily. I also don't scream,” Zach interrupted, the quip coming up without a second thought about it. _Regardless of your intentions, you do scare me. I am frightened by everything the past holds. I am terrified of what the future does not have. Assurance. Stability. You._

Chris arched his eyebrow, clearly amused but at the same time holding back what he wanted to say. Zach could gather that much. They stared at each other in an uncomfortable silence.

Zach hated how much Chris still had the ability to take his breath away. Even when he looked like a ragamuffin. Zach tried not to mentally comment on the state of Chris' clothes and hair and general appearance as he looked him over once, allowing himself that pleasure _just once_ , before he swallowed his mouthful of sandwich, deleted the Tweet draft, and broke the silence.

“How are you, buddy? I haven't seen you in a while.”

If he couldn't stop these heart palpitations, those sweaty palms, and this general nervous anxiety, Zach knew he might as well play it off as though he was perfectly capable of controlling himself. They were friends, after all. That trumped everything else. What was in the past was in the past. They had come to a sort of agreement about it, hadn't they? If not talking about it at all was a mutual agreement, then sure. This teasing that had already bubbled up was a good sign, wasn't it?

Just as Chris opened his mouth to answer, a familiar Scottish brogue broke the silence.

“Hey, hey! How are my favorite captain and first officer today?”

_Oh, Pegg. Even when it's unintentional, your timing is impeccable._

Chris' eyes met Zach's briefly. The light in those magnificently blue eyes had changed. Zach kept his eyes locked on Chris', making note of the shift from the look Chris gave to him to the light dancing in them when he looked to Simon. All at once, Chris' eyes seemed to say, _This is weird. Not in a bad way. But not in a good way either. What's going on? There's unresolved stuff here, Zachary. It has to be dealt with._


End file.
